Gulliver on the High Seas
by RebelFaerie
Summary: What does Gulliver REALLY do when he's not washing up on your beach? A tale of Gulliver's escapades as he sails the seven seas with his semiloyal crew and his somewhat trusty ship. Actually finished, in complete defiance of my pathetic attention span...
1. The Crusty Barnacle

**Disclaimer-** I do not own Animal Crossing. This is a depressing, but very true fact. Now that that's out of the way… Enough with the disclaimer! Let's proceed!

* * *

It was a dark and stormy night when I sailed into the far-off port town of Fitzton. I hopped off my three-masted schooner, skull-and-crossbones flying from the mainmast, and... What? What do you mean, I'm not a pirate? Did you just say that I'm making all this up? The nerve of some people... Fine. You're right. Have it your way, then.

The name's Gulliver, by the way. _Captain_ Gulliver, as a matter of fact. I'm here to tell you my story. No, not the one about the giant squid attacking the ship (although that may come into play later...), but the story of my life as the bravest, fearless-est, and, naturally, handsomest captain ever to set sail anywhere in the world. There'll be action in this tale, there'll be adventure, there'll be danger, and there'll be water. Lots of water. So what are we waiting for? A captain's nothing without his loyal (if not quite as brave, fearless, and handsome) crew and a trusty ship, so I'll start off there. Tallyho!

I had been walking for days through the grueling, barren hills on the way to Fitzton, a town far, far from here. One might ask why I was risking my life through this landscape, and while I'd love to tell you it was because I was scouring the countryside in an effort to destroy the deadly roadside bandits and highwaymen, that just wouldn't be true. I was shopping for a garden gnome for my cousin Enid's birthday, and the Nook-'N-Go in Fitzton was the only place with them in stock. Cursed limited supply stock back home in Meatloaf, **really** gets on my nerves...

But where was I? Ah, yes. The stupid Nook-N'-Go was out of gnomes, so after I dashed off a quick card and enclosed a few thousand bells (so she could go buy her _own_ gnome...), I figured I'd have a look around. After all, a Meatloafer such as myself doesn't get out to Fitzton every day of the week... This Fitzton was the pinnacle of animal civilization. Their museum was full, the police station hi-tech, the Nook-'N-Go high-stocked (for the most part...), and the lost-and-found was always cleaned out. Ah, bliss... But, nice as this all was, there was only one part of Fitzton that I was interested in at present, and that was acre F-5, the location of the dock, and, more importantly, the annual Fitzton RV-and-boat show, made possible by a generous grant from the Able Sister's tailor shop. Now, a brave and gallant sailor such as myself has no particular use for an RV, but a boat... now that would be nice to have.

So, off to Acre F-5 I went. I headed straight on down to the waterline, where ten or fifteen boats were tied to the tiny little dock. It was quite a squeeze, but somehow they all fit. I began absently skimming through the boats, not really paying much attention to what I was seeing. I really am not much of an intensive shopper. I just waited for something that caught my eye, and I didn't really expect to find anything. But then, all of a sudden, there she was. The perfect ship. A one-masted schooner, and a real beauty, in my own humble (though usually correct) opinion. It was love at first sight. At least on my part, anyway. I didn't expect that the ship was having any such feelings.

"How much is she?" I asked the salesman, an aged sea turtle with a slight limp in his left leg.

"Ah, ye likes this 'un, does ye? A fine choice, mate, fine choice. I should be chargin' more, but since I likes ye, I'll give it to ye for 10,500 bells. It's a real bargain, there, sir." the turtle said, in a harsh, almost pirate-esque accent.

"10,500 bells? Why, any ship's not worth half that! I'll give you 7,000 bells, or will we have to duel over it, you scurvy dog?" I demanded.

"Very well, mate, no need ter be takin' offense. 7,000 it is, then. Ye can pay now, if ye'd like..." he added pointedly.

"Hold onto your shell, vagrant!" I cried, reaching into my pocket and pulling out a bag with the aforementioned amount enclosed.

"Thankee, sir." the turtle said, pocketing the money. "She's not got a name as yet, so if ye'd like ter, feel free."

"Hmmm..." I pondered... er, ponderously. A matter of this importance must be considered with great care and deliberation, or at least something that resembled great care and deliberation. It was paramount that the name be short, sweet, and to the point, but it must also instill fear and respect into the hearts of other sailors. After a few moments contemplation, I hit upon the perfect name. "Henceforth she shall be called the Crusty Barnacle!"

I heard the turtle give a poorly disguised snort to my left. "What, do you have a problem with that, sir?"

"Oh no, sir, not 'tall" the turtle amended quickly. "Actually," he added, "I had a bit of a proposition for ye's. Ye see, sellin' boats and t'like really ain't what I'm cut out to do. I'm really a sailor, and if ye's buyin' this here... er, Crusty Barnacle, I was wonderin' if I could, I dunno, join yer crew or summat. I'd be much obliged."

I stared. "Join my crew? I hadn't really thought about a crew, but now that you mention it ... you'll do. Welcome aboard the Crusty Barnacle, sailor! What's your name?"

"Kapp'n."

"What? But I'm the captain!"

"No, Captain, it's me name."

"Oh. Right. Well, one thing must be made clear, sailor. _I_ am the captain aboard this vessel!"

"Aye aye, Captain."

"Excellent. Now that that's settled... er... how may more crew members would you say we'd need?"

"Ah, I'd say just one more'd do us fine, Cap'n." Kapp'n said.

"Of course! I was just testing you, sailor! Just a little fun on my part! Ho ho!" I laughed merrily, trying to play it off. "Well, no doubt you've been here in Fitzton longer than I have. Do you have any recommendations?"

Kapp'n rubbed his chin in a pondering way. "Hm..." I thought, "that looks awesome! I should definitely start doing that!" Then I realized that my huge beak might hinder said activity, so I discarded the idea.

"I'd have ter say tha' guy, right there, Cap'n." Kapp'n said, pointing. I followed his finger and ended up looking at a 300-pound-plus blue walrus, holding rolls of wallpaper.

"What, the chubby blue guy?" I asked.

"No! Tha' guy!"

I looked again, and this time I saw a bucktoothed beaver, wearing a ridiculous little hat and grinning like a fool as he held a bass that had to be at least 30 inches. He looked a little slow, if you know what I mean, but then most beavers do, I suppose. Normally, I would have protested a bit, but Kapp'n obviously knew what he was doing.

"You there! Beaver!" I yelled. The beaver waddled over, still clutching his bass. "How would you like to join the crew of the Crusty Barnacle, under my command?" I asked, not being one for wasting words.

"Gee, that'd be great, mister! Nyuck nyuck nyuck nyuck!" he laughed.

"All right then, welcome aboard. But one thing must be made clear, Mr... er..."

"Chip, captain. Nyuck nyuck ny..."

"Mr. Chip," I interrupted quickly before he could keep laughing. "You're going to have to stop doing that!"

"Aye aye, captain!"

I sighed in relief upon not having to hear his laugh again. "Okay, men, board ship!"

My men did so. I hopped aboard my ship, hauled in the anchor, and jumped to the top of the mast. The ship began to move out from the Fitzton jetty. Out adventures were about to begin!


	2. Rough Waters and Cucumbers

My men and I sailed for many, many days aboard the Crusty Barnacle. These days were long, hot, and occasionally monotonous. The water always looked the same no matter where we went, and although there were a couple random rainy spots here and there, everything remained largely the same. Boring though this was, it wasn't altogether useless, as it gave me an excellent opportunity to get to know my shipmates a little better.

Kapp'n, the scurvy dog, was one of the finest sailors it has ever been my pleasure to have serve aboard my ship (excluding myself, naturally). He worked the tiller as though he had done it all his life, he could take a hand at the sails if necessary, and he was the best darn cook that I've ever seen. Ah, those meals he made... my mouth is literally watering at the thought of them. (Gross. I'm really going to have to stop doing that.) Though, come to think of it, they all seemed to center around cucumbers. Cucumber stew, cucumber floats, just plain cucumbers... Yes, we all developed quite a liking for cucumbers while aboard the Crusty Barnacle, especially Kapp'n, who had a real thing for the knobby green things to start with.

There were only two problems that I had with my loyal first mate. First, he had a very annoying habit of singing while working the tiller. And the sea turtle couldn't carry a tune to save his life. It sounded, to the untrained ear, like someone was strangling a cat, and the cat was putting up a terrific fight. And those lyrics... I shudder at the thought of them. They were all about these completely random life messages, like "the pebble slides underwater to where truth lies" or some such nonsense, I can't remember the particulars. I mean, what does that mean? Am I supposed to go diving off the side of the ship looking for a pebble of truth? Seriously! And then there was that one about his insane puppy playing leapfrog and drinking eggnog... Horrors! I tried to sing him an old-fashioned sea chantey to show him how it's done, but he just told me to "Shattup, ye overgrown piece o' scale rot", so I deterred.

His other problem was his deathly fear of zucchinis. I have no idea what caused this terror, and Kapp'n wasn't too keen on telling. He did confide in me, though, over a plate of cucumber casserole, that: "Ah, Cap'n, I likes me cukes as much as t' next feller', but let me tell ye's, them zucchinis, they give me the spooks. Zucchini spooks..." Hereafter he curled up into the fetal position, in which he stayed for the next forty-five minutes. Naturally, I did not press the matter, and only hope that a zucchini never finds its way into Kapp'n's cucumber stash.

Chip, on the other hand, was from a completely different mold. A mold that somebody dropped on the ground and used anyway to save plaster, no doubt. There was only one thing about the beaver that didn't make me want to send him down to shake hands with Davey Jones. This was that he could fish like there was no tomorrow. (Although, if there really was no tomorrow, he probably wouldn't be fishing, but running around in circles and screaming his head off, but this is irrelevant at present.) Thing is, he was always intensely disappointed if he reeled in anything other than a large bass, and wanted to throw them back in. Kapp'n and I tried to explain to him that there was no way, under any circumstances, that he was going to catch a freshwater large bass in the middle of the ocean, and persuaded him to keep all those enormous fish he caught. I mean, a man can only survive for so long on naught but cucumbers, and some fricasseed red snapper makes quite the welcome change.

Everything else about Chip, as I've said, was a walking, talking, "Nyuck nyuck nyuck"-ing disaster. He couldn't work the sails, steer the ship, or basically do anything nautical, no matter how hard he tried. Which usually wasn't very hard, the knave! Although I really can't blame him for not wanting to humiliate himself. So, after we dropped anchor every night, Kapp'n and I tried to teach him how to control the fine sails of the Crusty Barnacle. After a few nights, we actually began to make some progress. But Chip's landlubber-ness wasn't his only problem. He got horribly seasick on the first few days. Lovely. But when he got better and NEVER stopped talking, I almost wished he was still feeding the sea bass. (Although this could be considered disgusting, considering that I was EATING the sea bass, but nonetheless...) He absolutely never shut up! And he ad a notorious habit of speaking in rhymes. That's not even to mention that... laugh of his! Yes, Mr. Chip would have been thrown overboard ages ago had the thought of deep-fried barred knifejaw not been holding me back.

Such was my crew.

I passed several unimportant days with these two men, sailing towards the nearest port town or adventure, whichever came first. On the sixth day of our voyage, we found the latter. This is how it transpired...

* * *

It was early morning when my crew and I climbed up on the ship deck. The wind was blowing a pleasing combination of cool air and sea spray into my face, and Kapp'n was singing a mournful chantey of love and loss that didn't make me cringe as I listened to it. Chip was catching the wind in our sails as the sun made her dramatic entrance over the watery horizon. Yes, sir, nothing was going to go wrong today. I could feel it in my bones.

My bones have been known to be wrong from time to time...

I stepped across the deck and began pacing, preparing to issue an inspirational and momentous speech about how even in the face of monotony, we must not shirk from our duty, but in fact we must rise above such petty limitations and perform twice as well, et cetera, et cetera. Or at least I had planned to, until during the course of my pacing I stepped in something soggy, squishy, flaky, and in general, _disgusting, _on the deck.

"Mr. Chip! Get your sorry hide over here!" I bellowed. I was hopping mad. (Well, not strictly, as I was far too dignified to do such a whimsical thing as hop) at finding... well, a crusty barnacle aboard the Crusty Barnacle. Just because I had named the ship as suck did not mean I would welcome its namesake on my deck, I can assure you!

Chip arrived, bobbing his head respectfully like a fool and clutching a sea bass as he said, "Present and accounted for, Cap'n. What can I do for you?"

"You can start by removing this no-good, disgusting... thing from my sight, and then I want you to swab down the rest of the deck! This is slacking, sailor, and I will not tolerate it!" I snapped, unsticking my foot from the deck and rinsing it off in a nearby bucket of water.

"Ahoy thar, Cap'n! That be me cookin' water ye's steppin' in!" Kapp'n yelled from the tiller.

"Well now it's my foot bath." I snarled. This morning was beginning to take a toll on my nerves.

"Aye aye. Swab the deck, swab the deck. An awful, toothsome chore that's bound to bore! Nyuck nyuck nyuck!" Chip chortled, looking pleased at his witticisism.

"Shut up, you no-good-son-of-a..." I cut off in mid-reprimand, which was probably for the best, come to think of it. My eyes widened to the size of Kapp'n's cucumbers, and I gasped. "Mr. Chip..." I said, mo voice shaking and raising a feather to point at the horizon, "What do you take that for?"

"What's that, Captain? Nope, Chip's not taking nuffin'. Nope, not nuffin', Cap'n."

Kapp'n, on the other hand, understood. "Yaaaaarrr..." he gasped. That be the worst nautical storm that I've 'a-ever seen, Cap'n. We're all a-gonna die." Kapp'n threw up his hands and yelled it again. "WE'RE ALL A'GONNA DIE!"

I faced my first mate and struck a heroic pose. "Not if I have anything to say about it, sailor." I declared.

"And who's a-sayin' you do have anythin' t' say abou' it? This be Nintendo Power's wrath! We ain't gonna stop nuttin'!"

"SHUT UP!" I screamed. Kapp'n looked shocked. "Do you WANT to die? No. I didn't think so. Now then. Men, I need your cooperation. Kapp'n, tie yourself to the mast. Chip, clear the deck. Put everything below, and then do what Kapp'n's doing. And I'll try to steer us through, because I am, of course, the greatest sailor that has ever sailed. Move!"

My men jumped to action. I ran to the wheel.

"Hold on to your stomachs, men!" I cried. "The railway systems ain't got nothing like this."

I wheeled the wheel to the starboard side, hoping to outmaneuver the storm. With my superior intellect taken into account, I didn't think this would be overly difficult.

I was wrong.

Within five minutes, we were in the heart of the storm.

The skies darkened first to an ominous black. Then the rain began, beating down in lashing torrents, making it near impossible to see anything farther than a wingspan away. Then the lightning began. Great flaming streaks of it, crashing down from the sky like a message from Nintendo. Its message was clear: get out of the water. But we didn't have a choice. And the thunder... great cracks of it like someone dropping a post office from a thousand feet up.

I no longer had hope to steer us through the storm. My only wish was to make it through alive. But the storm raged on, and even this seemed an impossibility. A great bolt of lightning struck the water five feet from us, and even my rugged manliness couldn't help me prevent a scream. I abandoned the wheel and clung to the mast like my men, hoping to run across land.

We were sure we were done for.

We were wrong.

After a harrying hour, the storm lessened. The skies cleared. The sun came out again. I released my hold on the mast and began to survey the damage. Our mast was cracked, unfit to ever hang a sail from again. The tiller was gone. The wheel was gone. My cabin (horrors!) was gone. We desperately needed a port town to fix our ship, or soon we would starve to death. We had lost all our provisions, even Chip's fishing pole.

But would we find such a town?

Only time would tell...


	3. Monsters and Merchants

**Disclaimer-** No, I still don't own Animal Crossing. Darn. But in this chapter, I also don't own the numerous references to Jaws that so wonderfully fit the moment right in here... But you probably could have figured that out for yourselves, right?

**_RebelFaerie_

* * *

**

We drifted aboard the wreck of the Crusty Barnacle for I don't know how long. Could have been weeks, years, or seconds, as far as I could tell. My very nice antique clock had been washed overboard in the tempest (Horrors!), but I knew by my feathered intuition alone that we were there for some time. The water drifted past us, along with gigantinormous fish that we stared at longingly, hungry out of our minds but unable to catch them... Yes, I just said "gigantinormous". Go look it up. Actually, I might have just made it up. Ah well, never mind.

But where was I before I got hopelessly sidetracked? Ah yes. Our lamentable predicament aboard the Crusty Barnacle. Well, after some time, we began to lose hope. We were stranded on a wrecked ship with no food, no water, and no way to steer ourselves to land.

And, we were bored.

Seriously, we were getting pretty desperate. One day, this became extremely evident. There was still no land in sight, and Kapp'n had actually exhausted his repertoire of chanteys. Seriously, this was strange enough in itself. The silence was as thick as Chip at two-thirty on a Monday morning. But at last, Kapp'n broke the silence with a gargling tune.

"Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies, farewell and adieu to you, ladies of Spain!" he sang. "For we've received orders for t' sail back to Boston, and so nevermore will we meet here again!"

Chip and I stared at him. Then we stared at each other. Then back at the first mate. That was officially the weirdest song our dear beloved turtle had ever garbled out. I was seriously wondering if the monotony hadn't begun to make him touched in the head. But then he broke out into a familiar song we all knew.

"Show me the way to go home," he sang. We joined in, our voices rising in a horrible discord into the sea air. "I'm tired and I wanna go to bed! I had a couple drinks about an hour ago, and they went right to my head!"

I broke off, staring fixedly at the water. I could've sworn I'd seen a ripple... a ripple an entire acre long...

Chip and Kapp'n, however, did not notice. "Wherever I may roam, by land or sea or foam, you can always hear me singin' this song; show me the way to.."

"Shut up!" I hissed.

"Eh? Nay, Cap'n, those not be the words..." Kapp'n protested.

"Shut up and look at the water!" I whispered. I had seen it again. Kapp'n, being a senior citizen twelve times over, saw nothing, but Chip's sharp fisherman eyes spotted it at once.

"Oh no, Captain," he whispered, buck-toothed beaver teeth chattering in fear. "Oh no. Oh no. Oh no."

"What is that thing, Chip?" I whispered back.

"Some folks call it the Monster of the Deep. Others call it the Mon-AAAAAAAAAAAH, NO, PLEASE, HEAVEN HELP ME! Still others call it George..." Chip stammered.

"But what is it?" I persisted.

"The biggest, meanest, most diabolical fish in all the seven seas," Chip murmured.

"What do we do?" Kapp'n hissed.

"What's there TO do?" I replied sardonically.

"I don't know, I'm asking you!" a very peeved Kapp'n snapped.

I sighed exaggeratedly. "We're just going to have to drift in and hope it doesn't eat us." I said halfheartedly. It really wasn't much of an option.

Kapp'n looked around the Crusty Barnacle anxiously. "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

"That won't be necessary, Cap'n and Kapp'n." Chip replied, grinning like the fool that he was.

"And why not?" I cried. Admittedly, I was not taking the appearance of this so-called "George" very well.

"Because there's another ship right there!" Chip cried, pointing.

And so there was. Maybe he wasn't so much of a fool after all.

"But it's so far away! Son of a bilge rat, how are we supposed to get it to come over here?" I cried mournfully.

"Leave it t'me, Cap'n!" Kapp'n cried.

He broke out into a loud, ringing chantey. "Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies, farewell and adieu to you ladies of Spain!" he warbled.

The ship turned course... right for us! Chip screamed (in a rather girly manner, it must be admitted) in delight. I looked back over the stern. The boat's stern, naturally! George was gaining on us. But the ship was coming fast!

"Whatever you do, **DON'T** stop singing!" I screamed. Kapp'n complied. I never thought I'd be so grateful that my tone-deaf first mate's voice could carry so far, but I was. George was less than an acre away, but the ship was...

Here!

"Huzzah!" I screamed. Our saviors threw down a rope ladder for us, which even the aged Kapp'n scaled in about thirty seconds. George seized the Crusty Barnacle in its massive jaws and made a valiant attempt to swallow it whole. Chip screamed again, even more girly than before were that possible, and we all jumped up on board the other ship. George began to gnaw determinedly on the hull, but it was good quality wood and he failed miserably.

Soon he gave up, and made his ominous way away from my crew and myself. In my mind, ominous music in the key of D minor began to play until he was out of sight.

"That's one nasty fish, gentlemen. Lucky we were here, really," a pompous voice from behind us said. I turned around to see who was insulting my crew as such and saw a small, rather green bird, wearing a hideous vest and a hat rather akin to Chip's, that was pacing self-importantly up and down the deck.

"Who are you and how dare you insult my crew like that, you scurvy son-of-a-biscuit-eater?" I cried in fury, something I had been doing increasingly today.

"I am Admiral. Captain Admiral."

I shook my head and sighed. Captain Admiral? And a first mate named Kapp'n to boot. These names just keep getting weirder and weirder...

"And, forgive me, you say 'insult your crew'? I see no crew here, just a buck-toothed idiot, a decrepit turtle, and some pompous old windbag who's gotten too big for his britches." Captain Admiral sneered.

I snorted. Loudly. Perhaps it wasn't the most prudent thing I could have done, but ah well. "And you dare to call me, Gulliver, the greatest and most noble sailor ever to sail, too big for my britches? Odd, coming from a puffed-up little birdie who's not even wearing britches!"

Admiral looked smug and embarrassed all at once. Not an easy feat, I might add, but he managed. "I am a bird, Gulliver. Birds do not wear britches," he muttered, looking imperiously down at his exposed tail feathers.

"I'm wearin' them, Admiral. And what do you think I am? A horseshoe crab?" I cried.

"No. Just an idiot." Admiral replied, grinning.

"Yarr, listen 'ere, Cap'n's," Kapp'n said. "What d'ya think this is gonna do?"

"Yes, sir, Admiral, sir. Y'see, my captain's not quite right in the head, he don't mean what he's saying, of course. See, if you'd just give our ship 'n' us a tow into the nearest town, we'd be much obliged to you, sir." Chip added hurriedly. I glared at the little traitor. So, not right in the head, was I? But then the beaver gave me a subtle wink, and I decided to play along.

I went up to the mast and offered it a hand. (Well, wing, strictly.) "Hello, sir! How are you this fine day?" I asked cheerily.

The pole, surprisingly, did not answer.

Admiral sighed. "Very well, I see your point. I'll give you a lift into Citytown. But you owe me. Big."

"Yarr, that be true, sir, that be true," Kapp'n agreed, obviously intending to die a painful and drawn-out death rather than pay this overgrown prig a single Bell.

Admiral went to the side, attached a hook to the Crusty Barnacle, and began to sail us off towards Citytown.

What would happen there, we would soon see...

* * *

"All right, men, Citytown Dock is just ahead!" Admiral cried out.

"Excellent!" I yelled, longing to get away from the obnoxious birdie. The "birdie" was looking suspicious. Belatedly remembering I was supposed to be touched in the head, I added in a dreamy voice, "Pork roast is pretty", thusly quelling any suspicious with my chameleon-esque acting skills, just another of my numerous talents.

"Well, thankee kindly, Cap'n. We really a'owe ya one!" Kapp'n said.

"Too right. That'll be ten thousand Bells, mates!" Admiral commented, looking expectant.

"Vagrant! I would sooner cut off my own head and feed it to the fishes than to pay a measly Bell to scum like you!" I yelled.

Admiral grinned. "That could be arranged..."

"Er... that won't be necessary, sir, there you are, and many thanks for your generosity," I amended, reluctantly paying up. We all hopped down off Admiral's ship (at last!), tied the Crusty Barnacle to the Citytown dock, and watched as Admiral's ship sailed off into the distance.

I then turned to Chip and gave him a furious glare. "So, touched in the head, then, am I?" I snapped.

"Sorry, Cap'n, but it worked, dinnit?" Chip said, obviously trying not to laugh.

I groaned. I could sense I was never going to live this one down... "Oh, very well, mister Chip, I give in. Just help me find someone who'll help me fix my ship, will you?"

My men agreed, and we began to search Citytown for a decent carpenter. Citytown was like nothing I'd ever seen before. It wasn't your average, run-of-the-mill, standard residential town, oh no, not in the least. There wasn't a single house anywhere, as far as I could see. All it was was a gigantic bazaar, with animals striking deals from cheap tents as far as the eye could see. Someone was playing K.K. Casbah out of a beat-up phonograph. This town was strange and foreign, but also the most likely place to find a decent shipbuilder, and I was grudgingly obliged to Admiral for taking us here.

At long last, after we'd walked the length and breadth of the entire city and K.K. Casbah threatened to be stuck in my head for eternity, we finally found what we were looking for. Inside a bear-up old tent bearing the sign "Ye Olde Tom's Ship Repairs" was a seedy-looking raccoon, wearing an unsightly apron and following around obsessively the two customers he had. They soon departed, no doubt a little disturbed by the proprietor's stalker-esque behavior, and the three of us approached, having "Ye Olde Tom" at our complete disposal.

"Welcome, welcome! Do come in! Take a look around, hm? Feel free to browse, but try not to carouse! Ho ho!" the raccoon chortled, coming over to us.

"Yarrr, thankee mate! Does ye fix ships 'round this place?" Kapp'n asked.

"That's what it says on the sign, sir," Tom replied peevishly.

'Well, blow me down! That it does!" Kapp'n gasped. I sighed and decided to take matters into my own hands.

"Ho there, sir! We need my fine ship to be fixed within the hour! Are you up for the challenge, mate?" I asked.

"Of course, of course! There's never been a ship too broken down for ol' Tom to fix! You'll have it with you, I presume?" Tom asked.

"Aye, right over at t' dock, if ye'd care ter have a look at it, matey." Chip said.

I gave him The Look. "Don't try that."

"Sorry, Captain."

The three of us led Tom over to the broken shell of the Crusty Barnacle. Tom followed a little too closely on our heels the entire time, rather like a somewhat annoying lap dog in a raccoon suit and an apron. Soon, we reached my poor ship.

"Aye, mates, I can fix her for you within the hour. It'll only cost 7,000 Bells. It's quite a steal, yes?" Tom commented. I must have hesitated, for Tom added, "And if you buy right now, I'll even throw in this scale model of the Arc d' Triomphe, absolutely free of charge!"

"Ooooooooooooh..." I said, staring, entranced by the rare novelty. "Done!"

"Thank you muchly!" Tom said, taking my money happily. "So, I'll fix that boat as soon as I find time, yes? I'll put it at the top of my to-do list!"

I approached him and lifted Tom three feet in the air by his shoulders so we were seeing eye-to-eye and fixed him with an evil glare. "No. You'll fix it now."

"R-right you are, sir! R-r-right away!" Tom stammered.

I stepped away, beaming. "Wise choice."

Tom hopped to work, and my men and I sat down on the dock, taking it in turns to ooh and aah over my Arc d' Triomphe and to stop Kapp'n from singing "Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies," again.

Within the hour, as was promised, the Crusty Barnacle was as good as new. Chip and I quickly boarded, reveling in its whole-ness, while Kapp'n rushed off back into Citytown, presumably to buy some more cucumbers.

"Many thanks to you, Tom, you've done a fine job!" I said.

Tom nodded and positively sprinted off back to his shop. I expect he had another customer to obsessively follow around town. Soon Kapp'n returned, and with another prideful glance at the Arc d' Triomphe, we hoisted the anchor and set sail into the glorious blue, in search of the adventures we were sure waited just beyond the horizon.

As it happened, they waited close than that...

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A/N- Thank you all for reviewing! I don't care if you've reviewed already, review again! And again! I like to see the little review number up top there get bigger! Review whatever you want, nice things (and I love you all for doing that! ... in a nice, healthy, non-creepy way, of course...), flames (but please, don't be too mean, guys!), sing a little song, I don't care, just review! Thanks!

**_RebelFaerie_**


	4. The Deep is Fraught with Peril

**A/N- Sorry for the long wait here, chaps! I've been dreadfully busy ... or I have a notoriously short attention span. Take your pick. Well, anyway... Before I get started, let me say a few words: Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak. No wait, seriously. **

**1) Nope, still don't own Animal Crossings. In case you were wondering...**

**2) Murray ... Wait, excuse me, THE Murray (my bad), I was wondering if you could give me permission to use your song lyrics for an ensuing chapter? You could all probably guess that my songwriting skills are somewhat wanting, so if anyone has any lyrics, keep 'em coming!**

**3) Um ... that's all I've got. Tallyho!

* * *

**

Chapter Four- the Deep is Fraught with Peril

Our fine ship sailed out of Citytown at a decent pace. Well, really, I suppose it was my fine ship, but really, I try to keep things as communal as possible, my humility keeping me from taking too much credit. But I digress... We left the Citytown jetty behind until it was a mere speck on the horizon, and then we continued to leave it behind until it was entirely out of sight and the last notes of K.K. Casbah had died out into the distance. Once this _oh_-so-fascinating event had transpired, I adjusted my devilishly stylish hat and turned to my men.

"Men," I said, "I turn to you now to offer you my thanks. You have served me up and beyond the call of the wild... life that a sailor must lead. I could not ask for a more upstanding and loyal crew... though I could ask for a smarter one..." I added in an undertone.

"What was that? You want a lighter gun?" Chip asked, bewildered.

"What's 'ee wantin' a nun for anyhow, Cap'n? They're devilishly tricky little blighters, nothing but trouble, them religious women, and I'd'a know..." Kapp'n muttered, continuing to ramble on about some particularly mean-spirited religious woman whose name escaped me.

"Why do you want an armed nun again, Cap'n?" Chip asked in all seriousness.

"Shut up! There's no nun! I didn't even say anything about a nun! Gosh, you people..." I muttered, stalking off. "Ruining my moments..."

"I think Cap'n's a-angry, son," Kapp'n whispered.

I was prepared to give them both a well-deserved "No, you think?", but my justifiable retort was cut off in the delivery stage as a sudden force rocked the boat... er, suddenly. Water slopped onto the deck as the starboard side dipped under the surface. I threw both wings onto the ship's railings for support.

"Kapp'n... Was that you?" I whispered.

"Nay, Cap'n, t'wasn't me," Kapp'n whispered back.

"Well, if you didn't do it, and you didn't do it, and I sure as halibut didn't do it, then who..." Chip trailed off.

"I don't know..." I replied to Chip's unfinished query.

But the reason all too readily became apparent.

Giant ripples began to spread through the water like it was a crumpled piece of stationary. A deep rumbling noise like the starting of a train's engine rang throughout the air. Giant, monstrous waves rose over the surface like... giant monstrous waves. I'm having trouble thinking of more brilliantly clever similes. And, all at once, giant grey tentacles shot out of the water like a forest growing in ultra-fast motion (Ha! Gulliver, master of similes, has returned!), followed by a deformed head and a bulbous body- The form of a giant squid.

My first thought was- _Oh come on! First George, now this? Can I ever get a break?_

My second thought I shall censor for the sake of any little children that may or may not be present.

"Move!" I shouted. "It's the giant squid!" I reached into my britches pocket and whipped out a gun, which I cocked, looking distinctly impressive while doing so, I must add.

My men sprang into action. Kapp'n seized control of the sail, and Chip leapt out of the aim of my gun and whipped out his arms of choice: a cast-iron frying pan. Oh, well. Beggars can't be choosers. Chip and I ran to the rail closest to the monster, shouting orders to Kapp'n to bring the ship around towards the beast, which he did. And now the true test would begin...

I fired off six shots in quick succession at the squid. I will take this moment to note that accuracy is not a necessary requirement for being the greatest naval captain ever seen in all the seas, and thusly will gloss over how many of those shots actually connected. But to my oh-so-manly and refined dismay, I only had six shots total (which equals NONE LEFT), and the giant squid was rapidly approaching.

Not all of my crew had such utter self-control. Chip began to pray loudly to the God of Fish, saying that if His Awesome Fishyness got him out of this alive, he would set aside the largest fish he caught of each day as an offering to His Great And Noble Mercy, and he would never do anything wrong again, or so help him, et cetera, et cetera. Kapp'n more or less kept his head. He turned the ship so abruptly that Chip's newfound piety was interrupted as we crashed into the monster with the front (or as we all-knowing sailors like to call it, the bow) of the Crusty Barnacle.

The squid let out the squid-ish equivalent of a cry of pain and outrage, which ran more or less along the lines of _**Waaaaaaooooohhhhhaarrrghhhhhshorgfisget!"**_ (which, incidentally, is more of less the noise Chip makes when he sleeps), and charged. Great slimy disgusting tentacles sprang from the water, missing the ship, but seizing Chip around his gigantic middle and lifting him into the air.

"AAAAYYYYIIIIIEEEEE!" Chip screamed.

"Hang on, Chip! We'll get you!" I screamed.

"Farewell and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies!" Kapp'n screamed.

The squid screamed something that there isn't a long shot in a Nook 'N' Go raffle I could spell as it flailed its tentacles faster.

And who do you think was the one with the foresight and brilliance to seize an axe and sever one of the squid's tentacles, catching Chip before he fell to a painful, untimely, and very, very wet death? Well, you need not live in suspense. I shall tell you. It was... No, no, I can't. My modesty prevents me from continuing.

"What are we a-gonna do?" Kapp'n yelled, panicking.

"Leave it to me!" I yelled back. Kapp'n was only too happy to comply.

I picked up my trusty Nook-brand axe and jumped from the ship onto the really, really disgusting head of the squid, and began chopping away madly at the tentacles that surrounded me, like a lumberjack on a sugar buzz.

"Take this! And this!" I yelled omnipotently. "Ha! And let this be a lesson to you, you loathsome, foul being! Never tangle with Gulliver, Lord of the Sea and Master of the Deep! Mwahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!" The overall effect of the thing would have been greatly enhanced by an old-fashioned bolt of lightning and some really menacing organ music right about there, but then you can't have everything. And I never said I was Lord of the Weather, after all.

With another swing of my axe and a "Begone, vile fiend!" for good measure, the squid let out another ear-splitting roar and sank back into the sea, the massive ripples showing its retreating process.

"Hooray!" Chip shouted, as he and Kapp'n joined hands and began to dance merrily about the deck in a bizarre parody of a sailor's jig.

"Ahem."

My men ceased their merriment and peered over the railing to see my hat, beak, and glaring eyes poking up above the water.

"A little help here, please."

After a good bit of effort on all of our parts and a good many "Yo ho, heave ho, a pirate's life for me,"'s thrown in by Kapp'n who else? for old time's sake, the three of us managed to get my noble and rather wet self onto the deck of the Crusty Barnacle. I tossed my faithful axe over by my cabin, causing Chip to scream and run away to avoid death by decapitation.

I wrung out my still devilishly stylish, yet soaking wet, hat and popped back on my head at an important-looking angle. (Never mind how the angle was important-looking. You wouldn't understand anyway.)

"And let that be a lesson to you, men," I said importantly. "The deep is fraught with peril."

We were soon to discover how very right I was...

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**A/N- Well, there you have it! Is this chapter up to scratch?**

**Oh, and by the way, I just remembered... I've got enough to keep dear old Gulliver going for four more chapters, but if anyone's got any ideas for more, please, let me know! I'd be more than welcome to hear them ... trust me. I need all the help I can get!**

**RebelFaerie**


	5. The Ostrich, the Pig, & the Wolf

**Disclaimer-** I'm going to let you guess... How much of Animal Crossing do you think I own? If you guessed "None at all", then... DING DING DING! We have a winner!

**A/N-** Many thanks are due to The Murray (article intended, I believe, though I have yet to ask about that one...) for the inspiration for this and several following chappies. I had one or two ideas left for Gulliver and the gang, but I'm afraid they just didn't hold water. Actually, they held a good deal of water, this being, after all, a tale of the sea. Perhaps the problem was that they held too much water? But alas! I ramble. Now, here's...

**Chapter 5- The Ostrich, The Pig, and the Wolf**

We sailed on without incident for the rest of that day, (unless of course you count discovering and mending the sizable dent we discovered in the ship near the cabin due to my axe-throwing activities earlier that day, which I don't...) and the next, and the next. Now, if you've never been at sea before, you couldn't possibly understand me when I say that these days of inactivity were the most exciting that we'd yet encountered. But, in all honesty, except of course for the Arc D'Triomphe, they really were. The wind rushing through the feathers, the sea spray splashing up on the deck, the cries of the gulls far above us (one of whom looked suspiciously like my local postman), the scent of the salty air fresh in your nose... Oh, Nintendo Power above, at least I HOPE it was the salty air... There's nothing like it in the world.

But ask anyone you like (except maybe Chip, of course, for obvious reasons): Bliss can't last forever, and we were no exception.

Around midafteroon on the fourth day after the squid, things began to change. The gulls (and perhaps pelicans) that we'd been hearing for the past four days were flying off in a massive cloud in the opposite direction we were taking, cawing and screaming bloody murder. The cacophony was absolutely deafening, not to mention ominous. They say that it's the gulls that can first sense danger... Poppycock, I know, absolute poppycock! If anyone would be the first to sense danger, it would be someone with brains, bravery, astounding intelligence, impeccable fashion sense, and a brilliance of mind, someone like... oh, I don't know, yours truly, perhaps? Not some stupid happy-go-lucky rats with wings! But nonetheless...

Kapp'n (having picked up several odd superstitions either from his days at sea or from last night's grog-palooza), however, did not take the Great Gull Migration lightly.

"Cap'n, did you see that?" he demanded, staring in horror at the sky.

"Kapp'n, my good man, how exactly could I not see that? In case you hadn't noticed, these infernal birds have been screaming themselves hoarse directly above us for the past three hours!" I said smoothly.

"Don't ye speak lightly o' the signs, Cap'n," Kapp'n said in a low, mystical voice. "I can read 'em, Cap'n, and they're a'-sayin' that death's comin'."

"My dear Kapp'n, do you actually believe that balderdash?" I asked, laughing dismissively.

"Yes," Kapp'n said, flummoxed. "Don't you?"

"No! Why should I? I have no cause to believe in any of that nonsense! Ha" I laughed, mainly for bravado.

Suddenly, everything went very quiet. The gulls were gone. And over the watery horizon came the very epitome of doom, the apocalypse made corporeal, another dramatic and long-winded statement meaning "very bad thing": a gigantic steel warship, guns out and loaded, glinting in the midafternoon sun.

I edged closer to Kapp'n. "You know, I think I believe the signs now..." I whispered.

Chip walked naively over to us, merrily whistling KK Song. "Hey there, ho there, Kapp'n and Cap'n!" he chortled. "What's all the ruckus about?"

Kapp'n pointed at the horizon. "Tha'," he said, his voice shaking.

Chip gasped. "The Seaslicer 2..."

Forgetting the direness of the moment, I stared at Chip in disbelief. "And you knew that how?"

"Um... I read the side of the ship," Chip explained.

"Oh," I replied wittily.

The ship was upon us now, close enough for even Kapp'n's eyes to read "The Seaslicer 2" done up in nice calligraphy on the hull, close enough to touch...

Incidentally, also close enough for three sailors to jump off over the side and land on the Crusty Barnacle.

Chip let out another of his trademarked high-pitched screams as the men landed on our ship, and I couldn't say I blamed him. The first was a six-foot-tall ostrich whose head looked to be made entirely out of metal plates. He glared at us through metallic-looking eyes, then nudged his companion, a rotund brown pig with a karate band tied around his head. The swine left none of us in any doubt that he could karate-chop us in half in less time than it took to catch a sea bass if the mood struck him. He looked quizzically at the third sailor with squinty mud-colored eyes. The last sailor nodded. He was evidentially the leader of this group, and one could see why. Not that there was anything particularly special about the black wolf's appearance, but he gave off an aura of menace beyond anything I'd ever encountered, except perhaps Kapp'n's cucumber soufflé, which I noted has the same sort of effect on me.

"These are the ones we're looking for, Sprocket," the wolf growled.

There is no way I can put into words how powerful the urge was to reply, "These aren't the sailors you're looking for," in an Obe-Wan Kenobi accent, but I decided this would be neither prudent nor particularly wise. And besides, like the rest of the world, I would be hard pressed to identify an Obe-Wan Kenobi accent. But I digress.

Sprocket, the ostrich, nodded and turned to us. "Now, if ye'd just like to come along quiet-like, it'll be much easier on you and us both," he said, his voice a strange medley of clicks and whirrs and beeps.

"Er, good sirs, there must have been some kind of mistake. See, I don't think we've ever me, and this being so, how could you be looking for us?" I asked, using my stunning brand of logic in an attempt to save our lives.

"Are you Gulliver, Kapp'n, and Chip?" the pig asked.

"Yes," Chip replied dubiously before either of us could stop him.

"Then there's been no mistake." he replied darkly.

"Well said, Hambo, well said," the wolf added.

I looked at Chip. Chip looked at Kapp'n. Kapp'n looked at me. At exactly the same moment, we burst out in uncontrollable hysterical giggles of mirth, and despite our predicament, we couldn't stop.

"What?" the wolf demanded.

I wiped the tears from my eyes. "..Hambo!" I gasped inbetween snorts of laughter. "His n-name's H-h-hambo!"

The pig was looking murderous. "That's it!" he growled, and he lunged at my throat. I couldn't help but scream- I'm sure any man in my place would have done the same. Before I even knew what was happening, the swine had me in a hammerlock, the wolf had Kapp'n pinned to the ground, and Sprocket had Chip paralyzed with some kind of laser beam that was shooting from his eyes.

'Holy halibut..." I muttered, unable to say anything more, due to Hambo's hammerlock. Paralyzing laser beams, I ask you! What were we supposed to do against those?

"All right, men, take 'em in," the wolf snapped. Sprocket and Hambo began to push Kapp'n and Chip over to the Seaslicer 2.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, a sudden thought occurring to me.

The wolf stared at me as though I were sprouting a third ear out of my forehead (which, come to think of it, was quite possible, seeing as how I couldn't see the blasted thing anyhow). "What is it?" he demanded.

"Can you excuse me for a moment?" I asked.

"For WHAT?" the wolf demanded again.

"Er, my shoe's untied," I invented. "...Over there!"

The wolf surveyed me suspiciously. "You're not wearing shoes."

"Exactly!" I said, smiling benignly.

The wolf raised an eyebrow. "All right, you're excused."

I ran into my cabin, searching it rapidly. Where was it? Blast, where had I put it? Pistol... no. Axe... no. Aha! There it was, hiding behind my bed. I ran over to it.

"Don't worry, my love, my darling, my precious, I would never leave you behind," I whispered, picking up the Arc D'Triomphe and putting it in my pockets. Now, let those devils do their worst!

I returned to the deck, where the wolf was waiting. He bared his wolfish teeth wolfishly, contorting his wolfish visage into a wolfish grin. "Now," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "down to business." As he spoke, he began to bind my wingfeathers together with a length of rope. "Imagine what people will say now! The great Captain Gulliver, caught like a common thief by me!" (I'm not going to lie to you; the same sort of thought had just occurred to me.) "They will tell tales of me now, mark my words! Everyone from Meatloaf to Citytown to the Isle O' Mole will remember the name of Wolfgang!"

"Oh, the ego..." I muttered. And yet, I did not doubt him. Just the way he'd said his name sent shivers down my spine.

Wolfgang...

"My captain will be pleased..." Wolfgang mused.

I stared. This wolf was not the captain? Then who was?

Wolfgang did not allow me time for thought. He forced me onto the Seaslicer 2, following behind. "Now, Smythysonn!" he yelled.

_Now? I_ thought. _Now what?_

This.

A tremendous _**BANG!**_ echoed through ought the air. I could only watch in utter horror as a barrage of cannonballs rained through the air. I caught one last glance of the Crusty Barnacle, sitting regally in the water, before the cannonballs met their mark.

The Crusty Barnacle exploded into a million pieces.

Someone was screaming, their words echoing meaninglessly, dimly in my dumbstruck mind. It took me a minute before I realized it was me. Then the world began to spin... faster... faster...

And then everything went black.

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**A/N- REVIEW! REVIEW! REVIEW! ... Please? (**_Author gives readers trademarked Sad Puppy Dog Stare Number 17)_** Please don't make me do that again... Review! No flames, though, please... Flames will be read, laughed at, and used to roast sausages. Let's be nice to the poor author, people? Next chapter coming up soon! I've almost finished it. **_(Author enacts Excited Author Look Number 439) _**Stay beautiful, people!**  
**RebelFaerie**


	6. Aboard the Seaslicer 2

**A/N- **_**Okay, so this took longer than expected, because some genius moved my notebook with the draft in it. How'm I ever supposed to find anything if people keep moving my stuff to places where I might actually USE it? Sheesh... I ask you... Plus, I was then further distracted by an unexpected sidetrip to Canada and the arrival of Pirates Of The Caribbean- Dead Man's Chest in theatres near you, so... But no matter. Here it is. Be happy.**_

**Disclaimer- **_**Must I keep saying this? I own nothing. Except private Smythysonn. Nintendo owns the Animal Crossing stuff, The Murray owns the Seaslicer 2 and its captain, whoever owns Hello Kitty owns Hello Kitty, and all the author gets is one little private. But such is our cold, cruel world. **_

_**Ahem.**_

**_Moving on, shall we?_**

Chapter 6- Aboard the Seaslicer 2

I awoke later in a pitch-black room with one monster of a headache and a certain beaver's head half an inch from my nose. I screamed and fell over backwards (evidentially, for some reason, I had been sleeping sitting up.)

"Gee, sorry, Cap'n!" Chip stammered, crawling backwards.

"Chip, what did I tell you about getting that close to me while I'm sleeping?" I demanded.

"Well, in all fairness, Cap'n, you wasn't exactly sleepin'," Kapp'n's voice said defensively.

"Excuse me? Then what was I doing, painting the fence?" I demanded again (a growing habit of mine, I noticed).

"Well, Cap'n, you kinda fainted, like," Kapp'n explained patiently.

"And why exactly did I faint, again?" I demanded. (Seriously, this demanding thing was getting out of hand. I was going to have to do something about it.)

"Because you freaked out when the Crusty Barnacle exploded!" Chip piped up.

"NOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed. Chip's face began to spin, faster... faster...

And then everything went black.

The next time I woke up, both Kapp'n and Chip were bending over me.

"Wh... what happened?" I groaned, putting a wingtip to my forehead.

Chip opened his mouth, but Kapp'n silenced him with a glare. "Don't you say a word, laddie," he growled. Chip shrugged.

"Fine. Don't answer me," I muttered. "Can you tell me where we are, then?"

"You're in the hold of the Seaslicer 2, Gulliver, my lad," a deep, macho, and in general thoroughly impressive voice replied from somewhere in the shadows.

I stared in awe into the dark. "Whoa, Kapp'n, that was pretty awesome. Did you hear how your voice just dropped three octaves and got suddenly all menacing? Can you teach me how to do that sometime?" I asked.

"Er... I'd love ter, Cap'n, 'cept that t'wasn't me..." Kapp'n's normal pirate-y voice replied somewhat awkwardly.

"IT WAS I WHO SAID THAT, YOU CONFOUNDED MUTTON-HEADED BUFFOON!" the voice bellowed with such force that the very floorboards began to rattle.

"Oh," I said meekly. "I see."

From out of the shadows, a giant shape began to emerge. It was too dark for me to make out any particulars, but I could tell that this newcomer was as tall as three of yours truly stacked head to head, and seemed to be wearing some kind of menacing, billowing cape. I looked at my men. Well, this was getting more interesting all the time.

"That's right, foolish mortals! Gaze in awe and horror at me, the fearsome, the almighty, the impregnable CAPTAIN CUTLERY MACDOUGAL!" the voice roared melodramatically.

I sighed. "Such a drama queen..."

"Er, how can we do that, exactly, if we can't see you?" Chip asked meekly.

"Oh. Yes. Yes, of course," the voice replied embarrassedly. There was the sound of someone striking a match, and then the lantern hanging from the ceiling was lit, illuminating not only our surroundings but Captain Cutlery MacDougal as well. Now that he was in full view, we could truly gaze in awe and horror at our captor. He was a rat, a massive rat the likes of which I have not seen in all my days. He towered above us like a rodent skyscraper. Seriously. This guy was big. As I had astutely discovered before, the rat was wearing a long black cape, which he would swish in a most ominous fashion every now and again. His ratlike (sensibly) ears were cocked forward, throwing his eyes into a menacing shadow. I could just discern two small glints of metal from the folds of his cloak. And from behind the cloak, a titchy little weasel poked his nose out, looking around nervously.

"Captain Cutlery MacDougal!" Chip gasped.

"Yes, we've already established that fact, Chip," I sighed, mainly for false bravado than anything else. I wasn't about to let MacDougal see I was scared to the point of having an embarrassing accident. Which I was. "Who's the little guy?"

"What?... Oh, yes. This is private Smythysonn. But never mind that. What you need to mind is that you are entirely at my mercy aboard the Seaslicer 2," MacDougal growled.

"Yes, about that. I've been wondering... Why the 2? Whatever happened to the Seaslicer 1?" I asked flippantly.

MacDougal turned to private Smythysonn. "Well, actually, there's quite the funny story about that, isn't there, Smythysonn?" he snapped.

"It was an honest mistake, Captain, sir, it could've happened to anyone, who knows what idiot put dynamite where any normal person would keep candles, honestly..." Smythysonn began to mutter under his breath, fiddling with his whiskers.

"SILENCE!" MacDougal roared. And there was. "Now, unless there are any more idiotic questions that I must deal with..."

"Yeah, there are!" I proclaimed. (Seriously, was I good at this bravado thing or what?) "What's with the name, Captain? Cutlery? What kind of a name is that?"

Apparently I had crossed the line bordering bravado and idiocy with a death wish. Who knew? (Don't you say a word...) Captain MacDougal finally took his right hand out of his cloak, and the three of us gazed in horror as we saw the foot-long meat cleaver protruding from the stump of his arm where his hand ought to be.

"Yes. Now it is very clear, is it not? Cutlery. Perhaps you'd like to feel just how sharp this hand is?" MacDougal whispered darkly. "Would you care to witness how it can pierce the flesh, skewer the organs, destroy the body?"

"Er..." I stammered, "Love to, really, but I seem to have an...um... previous engagement..."

"Oh, come now, Gulliver, don't be such a spoilsport! My hands have been absolutely dying to meet you..."

I gulped. "Hand_**s**_?"

To my immense surprise, MacDougal groaned and threw up his meat cleaver in frustration. "I just had to say hands, didn't I, Smythysonn?" he muttered.

"Yes, Captain, yes sir, you did, rolled right out of the ol'..." Smythysonn began to agree.

"SILENCE!" MacDougal roared again, and again there was. "Very well. You wish to know the secret of Captain Cutlery MacDougal's left hand? Very well, then. Feast your eyes upon this!" He pulled his left hand from the dark folds of his cloak. A perfectly cued thunderclap from outside the hold echoed through our prison. Chip emitted another of his trademarked high-pitched screams of terror...

"... Wait," I said. The dramatic special effects stopped. "Isn't that... a spatula?"

Again, my spectacular instincts played true. It was a spatula. But not just any spatula. It was a pink plastic Hello Kitty spatula, covered with stick-on daisies and sparkles and one small black button.

"Wait a minute," I said, trying to withhold my glee. "Does it...?"

I walked forward and pressed the small black button. A small white-and-pink Hello Kitty popped out of the top of the spatula and spread its arms wide as if giving the whole world a hug. "I wuv you!" it said sweetly, then descended back into the utensil.

"It does!" I shrieked in mirth. Kapp'n, Chip, and I all toppled over sideways, unable to contain our mirth. We knew we ought to stopped laughing, we really did, but we couldn't suppress our glee. We laughed until it hurt. We laughed until we cried. We laughed until Chip began to hyperventilate, and then we decided ti might just be time to stop. Wiping tears of laughter from my eyes, I sat up, gasping for air.

"Sorry, Captain. Didn't mean to offend, but you just caught me off guard just then..." I began to explain, but MacDougal didn't give me time to finish. He whistled, a quick piercing blast, and then the door to the hold burst open, admitting the personages I recalled as Hambo, Sprocket, and Wolfgang. MacDougal nodded, and Sprocket came forward. Before my lightning-fast reflexes had time to retaliate, he had fixed one cold metal hand around my throat and hoisted me unceremoniously off my feet. I quickly grew homesick for the floor. And my respiratory facilities.

"Wolfgang, my good man, you must have made some sort of mistake," MacDougal commented lightly. "Surely this is not the famed Captain Gulliver? Such a noted figure would of course give evidence of a higher mental capacity, wouldn't you think?"

"We were surprised ourselves, Captain, that Gulliver is so many planks short of a poop deck," Wolfgang replied. (I would have inserted a witty and indignant retort at this point, except because my windpipe was presently being crushed, this did not seem likely to happen.) "But perhaps now he will learn not to disrespect his betters."

And with that, the floor and I were happily reunited.

"Mark my words, Captain Gulliver," MacDougal sneered, "You will rue the day you crossed paths with the Seaslicer 2 when you see what we have in store for you." And with that, MacDougal and his crew dissappeared out the door in a wave of menacing darkness.

I looked at Kapp'n. "Well, that was sufficiently ominous..." I commented.

We were soon to learn just how right Captain Cutlery MacDougal was.

**AAN/ (Another Author's Note) **_**Well, there we have it. Chapter 6. Reviews? You know how much the author loves reviews. I love them almost more than I love cheese. And I REALLY love cheese... **_

_**RebelFaerie- Out!**_


	7. The Isle O' Mole

Yep. Still own nothing particularly consequential. One more original character pops up here, though. Go me!

And just as a note:

Normally I'd have some kind of excuse for this massive, and I mean **massive** delay between chapters. Honestly, though, this time I just don't have one. My bad, people. Worth the wait? Please, you guys decide. Leave me the verdict in your reviews. You know how I love them. They just never get old. Like Tickle Me Elmo. That thing also never gets old.

Let's go!

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Chapter 7- The Isle O' Mole

We spent perhaps an additional day or so languishing in the dark hold of the Seaslicer 2. Well, I suppose in all technicality we might not have been languishing, per se, given that I don't know exactly what "languishing" means. But it does sound sufficiently dark and depressing, so languish we did. We sat in that hold, hesitant to wonder about what was to happen to us yet unable to prevent our thoughts from drifting in that general direction… Indeed, we were so anxious about what was to come that even my formidable narrating skill cannot hope to express how anxiously anxious our anxiety appeared. Therefore, I shall take the liberty of skimming over that particular bit of the tale, and skip ahead to when something actually happened. But what? Ah, fear not, impatient audience. You'll find out.

You might not be surprised to learn that the continuation of our woe began with Captain MacDougal returning to our hold. Not only was he accompanied by the three crewmen that I'd come to get to know all too well, but there appeared to be no less than twenty other animals dressed in suitably piratical apparel that entered our prison as well. Wonderful. Nothing like a house party, that's what I always say…

"'Bout time ye came back down 'ere, MacDougal," Kapp'n sneered. Hey, guess I wasn't the only one with a decent stock of false bravado up my sleeve! Although that poses an entirely different sort of conundrum, as Kapp'n wasn't wearing a shirt, but the defense rests. "I was a-startin' to think ye'd forgotten about us!"

"Aye, and that'd be a real shame," I said dryly. "I'd found myself missing the scintillating pleasure of your conversation…"

MacDougal laughed, a deep, foreboding, soul-piercing laugh no doubt perfected by decades spent practicing in front of the mirror. "Ah, but you will soon wish that we had indeed forgotten you, that you had escaped the far-reaching sweep of my notice…" he intoned.

"Oh, but that would do nothing for my self-esteem…" I pointed out.

"SILENCE!" MacDougal roared.

I shut my mouth. Kapp'n and Chip fell deathly silent. Private Smithysonn immediately ended his conversation with Hambo about the average life span of certain shade-dwelling perennials. MacDougal cleared his throat in the ensuing all-encompassing silence.

"I expect you're wondering why I've come here today," he began. I decided to let my stony, macho, ill-used-hero-standing-strong-in-the-face-of-adversity silent glare suffice as a response. I was rather proud of said glare, and since I so rarely got the opportune moment to use it, I felt that words would rather spoil the overall pleasing effect of the thing. But I digress. MacDougal went on to whistle his impressive whistle, and three sailors I decided to lovingly refer to as Sailor 1, Sailor 2, and Sailor 3 presently tackled my men and me to the deck.

If you've never had this done to you before, permit me to describe it in one word:

Ouch.

Before I knew it, my wings were bound behind my back (ah, the indignity!), and I had been hauled unceremoniously to my feet. Chip and Kapp'n, I saw, had suffered the same cruel fate. We were shoved from our subterranean prison up to the main deck, where the early morning sunrise flooded our eyes with agony comparative to that of discovering that your younger sister has consumed the very last slice of your mother's homemade prize-winning tiramisu.

I screamed and fell to the deck, utterly unable to resist. "The light!" I cried, doing the cliché honest justice. "It… burns!"

"SILENCE!" roared you-know-who.

"Did you ever think, Captain, that all this shouting and anger may have stemmed from restrained aggression collected over the years?" Chip asked sympathetically. "Perhaps from a troubled childhood?"

I stood up, blinked, and looked at Kapp'n wordlessly. I hadn't even known that Chip knew the meaning of the words "restrained aggression". But surprises, like oxygen molecules, congagious viruses, and unannounced 4th of July houseguests, never come alone. MacDougal froze, looking at Chip with wretched… wrechedness. Somewhere one of the more artistic sailors had struck up a sad song in E minor on a violin. I could have sworn tears were swimming in the captain's eyes.

"They always loved my brother best," he choked. "I could never measure up to Seamus, no matter how hard and long I tried. They wanted me to go to law school like him, but I just wanted to pillage…"

"There, there," Chip said gently. "Let it out…"

"My mother," MacDougal sobbed, "n-never hugged m-m-me…" And he dissolved into a pool of emotion.

"Well, to be fair, neither would I," I whispered to Kapp'n, who chortled softly.

MacDougal's pool of emotion dried up faster than a one-inch puddle of water in the middle of the Serengeti plains. He stalked toward me, rage flashing through his tears. "You've just burned your last hope to the ground, Gulliver, you scurvy son of a sea dog!" he growled. "Men! Take Captain Gulliver and his faithful crew of feeble-minded miscreants to their fate!"

Hambo, Sprocket, and Wolfgang stepped forward and, seizing us by the shoulders, proceeded to do just that. I was forced first to the side of the ship, and pushed onto the plank protruding far from the relative safety of the deck. I turned back to my loyal crew, the inextinguishable flaming passion of martyrdom throbbing beneath my plumage. Lifting my head to the sun on high, I began to speak, my words flying through the air like gulls, free and untouchable.

"My men! Do not fear, for my death or your own, I beg you! Look evil in the face, or its spatula, and laugh with joy, for your soul will live on for eternity in the fertile valleys and rich forests of forever! Look to me, MacDougal, and quiver, for this is the day you tried and failed to destroy… Gulliver!" I cried. "Champion of the Deep!"

So saying, I turned to feel the sun on my beak one last, glorious time, before taking the step, plunging into the abyss…

Oh.

I glanced up at my men aboard the ship. "It's quite all right!" I called brightly. "There's land!"

"How delightfully convenient," MacDougal said dryly.

I looked around. I was now standing on a warm sandy beach, the blue waters lapping up against the shore. Palm trees swayed peacefully in the breeze, the sand dotted with shells. For all of its outward serene appearances, I had this feeling that something evil and ominous was lurking just through the line of trees. A wolf in sheep's clothing, if you will, a first-grader with a black belt, as it were. Kapp'n and Chip soon were standing next to me, along with Hambo, Sprocket, Wolfgang, and MacDougal hanging behind us menacingly.

Chip glanced at me. "So what now, Cap'n?" he whispered.

I snorted. "I don't know, I fancied a bit of a tan, then a free massage and a Mai Tai," I snapped. "I don't really think it's up to us anymore."

As you will be utterly unsurprised to learn, I was, as usual, correct. MacDougal whistled another one of his piercing, secret-coded whistles, which echoed across the seemingly deserted island we found ourselves so unexpectedly thrust upon. Almost immediately, a small scuffling, panting noise came through the trees, accompanied by the snapping of branches and the squelching of treading on undergrowth. Someone was coming. Abruptly, a small mole appeared from out of the forest. He was utterly naked except for a mercifully placed grass skirt and a string around his neck, off of which hung what seemed to be disturbingly authentic mammalian teeth. He shuffled his way over to MacDougal, groveling and prostrating himself in a disgusting overdose of respect.

"Lord MacDougal," he murmured in a hoarse, reverent whisper. "We have awaited your return for many moons."

Kapp'n, Chip, and I gave a barely stifled snort of laughter. 'Many moons'? All right then, if that was the way things were going to go, I made a mental note to myself to rename myself He-Who-Is-Surrounded-By-Idiots. I got no further in rechristening the rest of my crew, as the mole continued.

"Are these three for us, My Lord?" he asked.

"By all means, Resetti," MacDougal said with faintly offensive swiftness.

"My master will be pleased…" the mole, Resetti, said, touching his forehead to the hem of MacDougal's ominous cloak. I was sorely tempted to warn him that corporeal worship was really unhealthy, but opted against it. "We will give you 7,500 Bells for the lot."

I gave a splutter of indignation. "7,500? For moi?" I demanded. "Do you not know who I am? I am Captain Gulliver, the bravest, fearless-est, handsomest sea captain ever to make port anywhere in the world! I have battled sea monsters and giant squids, navigated the fiercest of storms, and performed countless other feats of heroics, daring, and selflessness in the face of the perils of the deep! I am worth, at the least, 25,000!"

Resetti sighed. "8,000?"

"Done," MacDougal agreed, and the deal was swiftly executed. Pacified but not satisfied, I glared at the mole as he turned to the three of us.

"This way," he growled. We were rather unsure why we did so, perhaps because the alternative was MacDougal, but we found ourselves following this strange, scantily clad stranger.

"Once and for all, goodbye, famed Captain Gulliver!" MacDougal sneered. "Goodbye, and good riddance!" And he and the crew of the Seaslicer 2 were lost to sight beneath the undergrowth.

The oppressive closeness of the forest weighed heavily on my mind as we followed the mole Resetti deep into the heart of the jungle. The undergrowth was thick and grew close about the makeshift path that the mole had forced. Branches and vines whipped at my face, with spiders the size of softballs lurking on the trunks of the trees. (I heard Chip give a small whimper of fright, but decided it was in my best interests to ignore it.) Fear, fear of the unknown was wrapping about my mind like a shroud, my heart pounding in my ears like the beating of tribal drums…

Wait. Perhaps that really was the beating of tribal drums.

The mole forced us into a clearing in the middle of the forest, and I could not help the gasp that escaped me. Gathered around a massive bonfire was an entire village of scantily clad moles, dancing around the spitting flames and chanting words I could not understand, glee shining on their twisted faces, the firelight reflecting off of their jagged teeth. One mole, a massive ball of fur and claws and terror, let out a scream of triumph as we entered the firelight.

"MacDougal has delivered, my people!" he roared. "The Great One will be appeased tonight! Let today be a day of joy and jubilation, for the reign of the Mole King shall continue again!"

The frenzied war cries reached a towering height, and a shiver ran down my spine as the Mole King approached us.

"Well met, slaves," he growled. "Bow down before the might of the Mole King, Lord Giggles O'HappyPants!"

I looked at Kapp'n. Kapp'n looked at Chip. Chip looked at me. As we had done so many times in the recent past, we burst out in unison in a chorus of hysterical laughter. Tears ran down my face as I looked into the deathly serious face of Giggles O'HappyPants, and I found I could not stop.

"You… you dare to mock the name that instills fear into the heart of all living creatures who have ever roamed the sea?" Giggles roared. "I… I shall not be mocked! You will pay for your disrespect! Your deaths will now be agonizing, and I shall relish being a spectator! Resetti!" he ordered. "Take them!"

Resetti bowed, and three moles seized us by the shoulders and dragged us into the very heart of the famed, no, the infamous Isle O' Mole, the laughter being wiped from our faces in a matter of seconds.

The dense jungle pressed in on me again, and with it came a strong and powerful fear that this would be indeed the last day of Captain Gulliver, Champion of the Deep…

* * *

And voila! Exciting, I know, an actual update!

Remember the monologue about Tickle Me Elmo at the top of the page? Sure you do. Prove it to me. Review!

-RebelFaerie-


	8. My Rugged Manliness Saves Us All

Yes, so it's been almost a year. Not quite a year, though! Don't complain about my total lack of work ethic without getting the details right! Okay, so actually you're totally entitled to complain about my total lack of work ethic. This is getting kind of ridiculous... So it's been so long I can't possibly imagine anyone is still interested in finishing this, but I'm a little OCD and would feel awful if I left Gulliver in the clutches of cannibalistic moles without giving him a proper ending. There's going to be one more chapter after this to wrap things up, maybe an epilogue if I'm feeling ambitious, but you know what this means, my friend(s)... We're nearing the end! Just because this is my eighth go at this doesn't mean you don't have to review, though. On the contrary, reveiws are even more important to me now. They're my second wind. They're going to make me finally finish this thing. And they're just plain delicilous. Since I can't get a ride to Taco Bell in order to buy me something that's literally delicious (and now only 79, 89, or 99 cents, respectively), I'm going to have to settle for something figuratively delicious.

That is your mission, should you choose to accept it.

And now, chapter eight, because if I keep rambling for any longer it actually WILL be a year between updates, and then I wouldn't be able to show my face in public anymore, I'd be so ashamed...

* * *

Chapter 8: My Rugged Manliness Saves Us All

It certainly seemed that my crew and I were destined to perish nobly, heroically, and fatally on the Isle O' Mole that day. As we were led through the plants without a good deal of pomp and circumstance, I tried to anticipate what I was in for. What had that mole said? "The reign of the mole king shall continue…", "The Great One shall be appeased tonight…"

All of a sudden, it hit me like a slap in my devilishly handsome face. I remembered a special I had seen on public access television at some point last winter. (Yes, I have been known to indulge in the loftiest of intellectual pursuits.) The inhabitants of the Isle O' Mole are the last known practicers of Gastronomism, the show had said. This religion believes in the existence of angry spirits lurking in their midst, and the only way to appease said spirits is to find a few living creatures… roast them… and eat them.

Oh dear.

The jungle abruptly thinned, and my comrades and I found ourselves in an expansive clearing. The moles thrust us forward into the center, and I looked around in dismay. The village of moles followed on our heels and formed a ring around the three of us, several small mole children stocking a small pile of wood near Chip with larger branches. A large iron stewpot lurked ominously in the background of the scene, if a large iron stewpot indeed has the capacity to lurk ominously, as such things do not generally have the ability to move. Mole families leered at us with expectant and hungry expressions on their faces. I almost wished the whole scene did not make so much sense to me.

"Sometimes I wish I wasn't always right," I sighed aloud to myself. "It would make for a pleasant surprise once in a while."

"What, Captain?" Chip asked, bemused.

Despite the direness of the situation, there are some opportunities that just can't be passed up when you have razor-sharp wit similar to mine. (Then again, who in the seven seas has wit similar to mine? Exactly.) "And for another pleasant change, maybe you could understand what was going on every so often…" I muttered under my breath.

"Ouch!" Chip snapped, apparently insulted.

Benevolent creature that I am, this caused me to think. In all probability we were likely to perish in the next few minutes, and did I really want to end my life (which had been so heroic that epic poems would be written about it for eons to come) with petty words of cruelty? Well, not _completely_, I didn't. There was a small part of me that would have minded too much, but…

"Let us go out of this cruel world as friends, my good Chip!" I declared. "I am much indebted to you for all you have done for me over the course of our acquaintance, and I apologize with all my heart for the indignity of the insult you have suffered!" It crossed my mind then that I really ought to hire a composer to provide dramatic theme music for when I frequently delivered momentous speeches such as this, but then I recalled that I probably had less than twenty minutes to live and this might not be the best investment of my funds.

"What?" Chip said vaguely, then seemed to understand. "Oh, I don't care about that, Captain, a mole poked me in the back with a meat thermometer. It kind of hurt. What d'you suppose that's all about, then?"

I heaved a great sigh. "Chip, much as it saddens me to be the one to tell you…"

"Light the ritual fire!" Giggles O'HappyPants roared, raising his arms to the heavens with enviable dramatics. "Bring forth the sacrifice! We shall roast them and eat them to appease the Great Spirits of Beyond!"

Kapp'n let out a cry of horror. I stood fast in the face of my imminent demise, my wings akimbo, the only thing missing a billowing flag and a brass band. Chip looked at me quizzically.

"Tell me what, Captain?" he asked lightly.

I blinked once in disbelief. "Chip, they're going to light the ritual fire and bring forth us as a sacrifice. They're going to roast us and eat us to appease the Great Spirits of Beyond," I said dully.

Chip gasped, petrified with fear. "Oh no! What are we going to do??" he wailed, then paused. "You know, that whole thing sounds kinda familiar, Captain," he mused.

So much for not ending my life with petty words of cruelty. "Does it," I said scathingly. "Chip, you're so dense I'm not sure they'll be able to get their knives and forks through that thick head of yours."

Decent material, but neither of my crew members were paying too much attention to what I said. A small mole of perhaps eight years of age ran into the circle, holding a flaming torch aloft like a cannibalistic Olympic runner (which is unlikely to occur, as the Olympics promote world peace and not consuming your fellow man, but who am I to let accuracy stand in the way of a decent simile?). He then cast the torch into the pile of wood, which roared to life almost instantly, flames rising up to the blue sky above, perhaps the last sky I would ever see upon this watery earth. Kapp'n gripped my hand in a manly way.

"Show 'em no fear, Cap'n," he said hoarsely. "Remember, he who hesitates is lost."

Well, I wasn't about to be out-proverbed by my own first mate. "He who laughs last laughs best," I replied.

Kapp'n nodded sagely. "Death is the last frontier," he added.

"Pick up a penny, put it in your pocket, and all day you'll have good luck," I said wisely.

Kapp'n looked at me, perplexed. "Wha' does that have t'do with anythin'?" he asked confusedly.

I shrugged. "What doesn't that have to do with anything?" I replied sagaciously. Kapp'n rolled his eyes and decided not to comment. Evidentially my way of dropping an adage had intimidated him into silence. Not bad at all. Best to leave them with a good impression.

The moles, as it happened, were determined to one-up me, as far as leaving with a good impression went. The men, women, and children surrounding the fire began to circle in a rhythmic dance, chanting words that I did not understand in ever-increasing urgency, until we were surrounded by a whirling mass of teeth and claws and poorly-in-tune cannibalistic song. Resetti suddenly appeared behind us and gave Chip, Kapp'n, and I a tremendous shove from behind towards the towering flames. We were so close that we could feel the heat on our disarmingly handsome faces (well, mine, anyway).Not to be outdone, and getting somewhat carried away in the moment, I turned my face to the sky, closed my eyes, and cried the most momentous proverb I could think of at the time to the clouds.

"TIME STOPS FOR NO DEVILISHLY HANDSOME SEA CAPTAIN BEING PUT TO DEATH FAR BEFORE HIS TIME!!"

All right, perhaps I improvised, but for the final stand of the famed Captain Gulliver, Master of the Ocean, it certainly seemed appropriate. All was lost. We perched on the edge of despair, and the wind blew fiercely and metaphorically behind us, forcing us closer and closer to the edge, trying to force us to fall to the razor-sharp rocks below, and finally…

Wait. Was that the crashing of footsteps I heard in the brush?

Well, it certainly wasn't Beethoven's 9th Symphony, that was for sure.

King Giggles O'HappyPants let out a wail of horror that was quickly echoed by the rest of the mole people. The tribal dance skidded to a halt, and chaos and pandemonium ensued as women and children screamed and men… well, the men screamed too. This could have been our opportunity to escape, but the look of unequivocal terror on Giggles' face froze me dead in my tracks. (Not to alarm any of my faithful fans still listening. I was as alive as I ever was. That is to say, completely.) Something was coming. Something bad.

"She's coming!" Giggles roared, standing on top of the nearest tribal drum so that he could be heard (and seen, as he was less than three feet tall). "Abandon the sacrifice! Flee! Flee for your lives!"

With the scurrying of rodent feet and the shrieks of the more vocal members of the tribe, the clearing was suddenly completely empty save for the large crackling bonfire, my crew and I, and a lone tumbleweed provided for ambiance which quickly blew out of sight.

I glanced at my crew, and we quickly took three or four sizeable steps away from the flames. Chip seized the opportunity to extinguish the fire which had begun to take hold of his whiskers. "Well," I said, trying desperately to look on the bright side of things. "I'm kind of enjoying the sound of 'Abandon the sacrifice', aren't you?"

"Oh yes, Captain," Chip agreed cheerfully, his face doused suitably. "Most definitely."

"I think I could do wifout th' whole "flee for yer lives" bit, though," Kapp'n pointed out pessimistically.

I rolled my eyes. "There you go. Leave it to the first mate to always look on the gloomy side of things when faced with a cannibalistic tribe of moles and an unnamed monster lurking in the underbrush. How typical."

"It's a curse," Kapp'n admitted dryly.

The footsteps became steadily louder and louder. The very ground beneath my feet began to tremble as we stared in horror at the trees surrounding our clearing, which had begun to sway and tilt with the force of the approach of whoever was doing the approaching. I heard a terrifying battle roar echo across the horizon, a wordless explosion of bloodlust and intimidation that sent fear jolting through my generally fearless insides. Chip fell to the ground and threw his arms around my ankles as though I was his very last handhold to civilization. I looked at Kapp'n, and my first mate looked back at me.

"Well, men, it's truly been an honor serving with you," I said seriously, shaking Kapp'n's hand sagely. I attempted to do the same to Chip, but he still had not relinquished his hold on my ankles, so I settled on patting him on the head in a paternal manner. The roar from the trees sounded again, and the brush at the edge of the clearing began to shift, making room for the murderous creature from the woods that would undoubtedly be our demise to make its entrance… And out it came.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!"

Wait.

I blinked several times. I glanced inquisitively at Kapp'n. I blinked one more time, for good measure.

"Cap'n… That's a kitten," Chip said bemusedly.

"I knew that," I said quickly, shaking the beaver off of my ankles.

"So why did you scream like a ten-year-old girl when it came out of the forest?" he asked me lightly.

"Like… like a ten-year-old girl? I did not!" I corrected him hastily. "And I am your captain, thus I have the final word on the matter!" And fortunately, that was that. I crept forward, eyeing the kitten suspiciously, and bent down so I was looking eye-to-eye with the beast. "Be careful, men," I warned them wisely. "This could be one of those rare tropical attack kittens."

"There's no such thing as tropical attack kittens," the "murderous beast" informed me with annoyance, "and if there was, I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be one of them. My name's Kiki. I live here. I've lived here for ten years."

"And you don't eat mole sacrifices, Miss Kiki?" I inquired.

Kiki rolled her eyes at me. "No…" she informed me. "I just live here and walk threateningly through the bushes when people are making too much noise with their cannibalistic sacrifices. I moved here for some peace and quiet, and wouldn't you know it, every time I want to watch my soap operas, someone insists on banging on their drums as loud as possible and singing cannibalistic war chants, and I can't hear a word of what's going on between Sophie and Robert. I just don't believe it. But it does disperse them nicely."

"That it does, that it does," I agreed, as if this was how I dispersed of noisy neighbors myself. Perhaps I should give that a go, I mused. It does seem to be effective. "Well, we are certainly indebted to you, Miss Kiki. On behalf of my men, Chip and my first mate Kapp'n, I offer our most humble expressions of gratitude."

Kiki shrugged, as if to say "what can you do? No big deal."

From my left, I heard a noise that sounded a good deal like "mimblewimble", and, naturally curious, I turned to see the source. Kapp'n's face had gone several shades darker green than it had been a few seconds ago, and he was staring at Kiki as though he had never seen anything more glorious. His eyes seemed to shine with the brilliance of two captured stars, and I could nearly hear his heart pounding in his chest. I looked at Chip, who was giggling but trying not to show it, then rolled my eyes and addressed my first mate.

"She's really too young for you, sailor. Don't get your hopes up," I advised him.

Kapp'n blushed even farther but did not break his gaze with the island cat. "I'd leave that for the lady to decide, wouldn't you, Cap'n?" he asked in what he obviously thought was a romantically smoky voice. I cringed. Action and adventure are my bread and butter. Daring escapades and brave victories are what I sustain myself on from day to day. Romance, don't ask me why, but it makes my stomach turn. Any more of this loving talk and I was more than likely to empty the contents of my stomach all over the offending pair.

I coughed pointedly and looked around the island, as though I'd just noticed we were there. "Well, men," I said breezily, "if we're not about to get eaten by cannibalistic tribal moles, how exactly do you propose we're to get off this island?"

Kapp'n glanced at me briefly and grinned conspiratorially. "Now, as to that, Cap'n," he said with a jaunty wink, "I actually have a plan…"

* * *

If you're still out there, you're officially the coolest person known in the history of mankind. Let me know this! Review! This time it's for your own good as well as for my self-esteem. First one to review gets cookies!!

Just kidding. I can't send you virtual cookies. Don't get excited.

-RebelFaerie-

(Who is very sorry already, so please don't chastize me...)


	9. Farewell and Adieu

_Okay, this time, no prologue. No excuses. I just finished it, and I'm so psyched about it that I just want to post it. I'll add some notes at the bottom, if you can hang with me that long. I promise, it's worth it. Well, I think it is, anyway. I always get this post-finishing-a-story high. It's better than any drugs you could come up with. _

_Ahem. Remember that no-prologue thing? I'm leaving you alone now._

Chapter 9:

Farewell and Adieu

Allow me to begin the final leg of my adventures thusly: whenever embarking on an adventurous mission for glory and honor on the seven seas aboard your trusty and momentously named vessel, always make sure to bring with you a carpenter. It saves you an infinite amount of work. Kapp'n, as he made clear to me after having pulled his head out of the clouds of love for a moment, had finished top in his class at the Farway Acadamy's School of Basic Carpentry and Emergency Shipbuilding in Times of Deadly Crisis. My own knowledge having been gained in the more natural way (sweat, hard work, determination, and unparalleled experience), I had not taken the time to enroll in such a superfluous course…

But, I mean to say, if he had gone through all the trouble of writing term papers and completing final exams for just such a life-saving project, who was I, a master of all trades, to take this opportunity away from him? No one, that's who. I did decide to lend him a small amount of professional advice, however. It's not every day that a master enters the midst of the average craftsman. It would have been a crime to deny him my help.

So, to cut a long story detailing all of my (I mean, our) creative conquests short, the two of us set to work, armed with nothing but the sweat on our brows, the strength of our backs, a handful of roughly hewn tools from the surrounding jungle foliage, and Kapp'n's well-worn copy of _Redd's Shipbuilding For Dummies_ ($7.99 in most local bookstores). Chip, who was nothing if not incompetent with his hands, set about supervising the best way he knew how.

He fell asleep, I mean.

Kiki the jungle cat continued to pace around us as we worked diligently in the island heat, occasionally striking poses against the trees that would have easily graced the pages of _Cat Fancy_ any month of the year, and I'm not just saying that.

"Cap'n, look," Kapp'n whispered hoarsely, wiping the sweat from his forehead and gazing at Kiki, who had recently let out a dramatic sigh and looked up at the birds fluttering serenely overhead, the light striking her striking features strikingly. The old turtle seemed to be somewhat out of breath, and I knew that it had absolutely nothing to do with the physical labor. I hoped his heart wouldn't give out before he'd had the chance to strike up a conversation with the poor cat, but I didn't like to think any farther on the subject because, as I've said, there are many subjects that I will converse upon. This is not one of them.

"I assume you don't mean the birds," I said dryly, hammering a nail into one of the boards.

If looks could kill, the one Kapp'n directed at me would have had me sleeping with the fishes in under thirty seconds.

"I didn't think so," I sighed. "Really, man, it's time to get your head out of the clouds and start thinking straight. I mean, where are we going to go as soon as we finish this ship? What's the next port? We have all the options in the world, but I for one would feel much better if we were to direct the bow somewhere far to the east, or west, or north, or south, or actually any direction that took us a large distance from MacDougal or anything that reminded me of him. Which, like I say, still leaves us plenty of options. We could visit Villeburg, Bay Harbor, Peninsula Point, or, my personal favorite, the shady shores of the Shadowed Shoals…"

Would you believe me when I told you that he wasn't listening to a word I was saying? All my infinite wisdom of the seven seas pouring onto his ears (or whatever turtles have to serve as auditory receptors) and he didn't give me so much as a smile and nod? Absolutely ridiculous. "Well, that should do it, Cap'n," he said distractedly, still gazing at Kiki with an idiot smile on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me for a mo'…"

"Wait, we're done?" I said blankly, looking at the structure we'd just built with our bare hands and paperback step-by-step guide. "Don't we have to, to, hoist the jib or… raise the main sail or, or, or anything?"

"Nah, Kapp'n, looks to me like we're done," Kapp'n contradicted.

If I hadn't been a well-respected naval captain in full view of the public, I would have danced a silly sort of jig on the spot at this pronouncement. "Well, what are we waiting for, mate? Wake the beaver, all hands on deck, let's get this rig on the open seas and set off into the sunset!"

Kapp'n stopped in his pacing across the clearing. "Well, er, actually, Cap'n," he said slowly, "I'm not exactly sure I'm goin' t' be settin' off into any sunsets at the mo'."

I looked at him askance. "What, you think we should wait until morning? Well, that's not nearly as dramatically traditional, now is it? Let's trust my expertise on this one, shall we?"

"That's not wha' I mean, Cap'n," Kapp'n said patiently. "I've been a-talkin' to Kiki a lot lately, and she thinks, well, there's a nice port town near the island, and they been needin' a ferry system for a long, long time. So I was thinkin', maybe I could set up a little yacht, and I could… I could stay here with her," he finished quickly.

Love! Thwarted out of a crew member by love! Call me bitter, call me a curmudgeon, call me anything you want, but I shook a clenched wing at the heavens for having put that blastedly attractive feline in my path! Blast! Foiled again!

"Er, Cap'n… are you feeling all right?" Kapp'n asked sheepishly.

"Absolutely! Perfect! Why wouldn't I be?" I laughed with forced cheerfulness.

"Well, ye just yelled, "Blast! Foiled again!" to the sky, y'see…" Kapp'n pointed out.

I blinked. "Did I say that out loud?" I asked, genuinely perplexed.

"…Aye…" he admitted. "Listen, if ye need me wif ye, I can stay on, but Kiki's one of the best things t'happen t' me, and…"

"No," I said quickly. "No, you stay. Build your Yacht of Love and ferry passengers with your bonny lass, my good man. You deserve some happiness. If anyone deserves, the good life, friend, it'd be you, take my word for it. And the word of Captain Gulliver, Champion of the Deep, is not something to be given idly." I'm not one for flowery speeches, but I genuinely meant every word of that.

It was obvious that Kapp'n saw I was in earnest, for his eyes welled up with tears of appreciation and he hugged me impulsively around the waist.

"Thankee, Cap'n, I'll never forget ye and all ye've done for me!" he sobbed. "Ye've given this ol' turtle the chance for one last adventure in his golden years, ye helped me find me love, and I owe ye everything! I love ye, Cap'n, I really do!"

"Er, well, that's very nice and all," I said, somewhat strained, "but would you mind letting go of me? You're crushing my lungs."

"Oh," he said sheepishly, leaping back. "Sorry."

"It's nothing," I said, gasping for air. "Breathing's overrated anyway."

*************

Twenty minutes later, Chip and I had managed to roll my second vessel, lovingly christened _The Crusty Barnacle II_, from its spot of conception to the makeshift harbor on the shore of the island, and we were now standing on the lower deck, leaning over the side to look one final time at The Isle O' Mole. The sun was setting beautifully over the horizon, painting the trees in shades of gold and crimson and other colors that my sizable lexicon does not extend enough to describe. A certain heaviness weighed down my heart, uncomfortably conflicting with my longing to be out on the open sea where my ever-roaming heart belonged. I had never thought myself to be a sentimental person by nature, myself always having been my best companion, but the thought of leaving my loyal and brilliant first mate behind, no matter how happy he was sure to be, tugged painfully at my heartstrings.

"You're really going to miss him, aren't you, Cap'n?" Chip asked me gently.

"I think so, Chip," I said softly, looking pensively out at the treeline. "I think so."

"There there, Cap'n," he said, patting me on the shoulder in a parental way. "It'll be all right. We can come back and see him whenever you want, and…"

"Chip?" I said sharply.

"Yes?" he asked brightly.

"Don't touch me."

"Sorry."

Unable to think on the prospect of leaving any longer, we decided to get the hardest thing out of the way first, and we hoisted anchor and let the roaming easterly breeze that blew across the great blue expanse carry us off to sea. It may have been merely my imagination, but from the island that dissolved into a smaller and smaller speck behind us, I swear I heard a single, scratchy voice warbling through the night air.

_"Farewell and adieu to ye, fair Spanish ladies…"_

*************

The days seemed to pass with a jarring unusualness to them. It was strange, it being just me and Chip aboard a ship that, for all its similarities, could never quite equal the grace and majesty of the _Crusty Barnacle_. It would take some getting used to, the absence of the things that had attached themselves so surely to my heart and soul and my very being, but I was sure that as resilient as we both were, with some time we would come to adjust.

As it happened, we were never given the chance. Fate has a strange way of arranging things. You may think the cards are going to fall one way, but then with one tip of the knife balanced on an insubstantial wind of faith, the balance tips and the pendulum swings and your metaphors get all mixed and you have absolutely no idea what's going to happen next.

It started out seemingly to be a beautiful day; the sky was blue, the water was blue, most of the other natural phenomena occurring around us were blue also, Chip was whistling an idle tuneless song as I steered the ship through the mostly calm waters, and then… things began to change. Clouds rolled in like a person with a gambling problem at a crap shoot, the water began to turn a cold, unforgiving slate gray, and then the most horrible of all signs happened.

My left wingtip began tingling.

"Oh no," I breathed.

Chip immediately stopped whistling. "What's wrong, Cap'n?" he asked innocently.

I looked at him, petrified. "Chip," I said seriously, "the wingtip is tingling."

Chip gasped. "Oh no!" he wailed. "The left one? That's the ultimate bad omen! What are we going to do?"

If I had had time to open my mouth, the sentence I would have chosen to answer that perfectly valid question would probably not have been "Well, Chip, I'm certainly glad you asked. As it happens, you are about to gaze in horror and surprise as I am washed overboard by a giant tsunami of a wave that will crash over the side of the ship without warning and will be flung unceremoniously into the slate-grey tempestuous sea." I might have said "I think we should have a tea party," or if I was feeling adventurous, "Probably a ship of famous actors pretending to be pirates will happen along and we'll put on some unnecessary eyepatches and exchange some piratical dialogue across the sides of our ships, based primarily off of the phrases 'scurvy knave' and 'arrgh'."

Unfortunately, I had no time to say any of these sentences. Chip only had time to gaze in horror and surprise as I was washed overboard by a giant tsunami of a wave that crashed over the ship without warning, flinging me unceremoniously into the slate-grey tempestuous sea. The _Crusty Barnacle II_ bobbed at the top of my vision as I ducked under the surface of the water, the waves pounding me down, down, until I could no longer hope to swim to the ship for safety and simply let myself drift on, drifting to who knew where, drifting on to whatever life awaited me after the adventures of this one…

And all of a sudden, I felt something warm and somewhat grainy beneath my head. This struck me as perplexing for a few moments, before I realized that I could breathe again. This also was perplexing. Had I suddenly developed the ability to breathe underwater? Well, that would be most convenient. Captain Gulliver, Master of Land and Sea! It had an agreeable ring to it. If I ever made it back to civilization, they would make television specials about me for decades…

Then I realized that I was in fact lying on a beach. Above the water. Well, then. So much for the TV deals.

And that, my good lad, is where you came along. I, exhausted from my drifting about at sea, lapsed into unconsciousness right here on this very beach. My dreams carried me through exotic waters and far-off port towns, through battles with giant squid and dealings with seedy foreign merchants. In the forefront of all these dreams featured two faces: a grinning beaver and a wise, drawling aged turtle, smiling and saying repeatedly "It'll be all right, Cap'n."

I believe them now.

I am much indebted to you, my lad, for waking me up from this beach. If you hadn't happened along, who knows what manner of creatures would have happened across me? As you know from the tale I imparted to you, I am a hot commodity across these seas. Anything could have happened. I'm so happy I fell into hospitable hands. And now that you've received your payment through my riveting tale, I think I must go. Adventure calls, you know?

_What do you mean, YOU WANTED SOMETHING TANGIBLE???_

Oh dear. I really hoped it wouldn't have to come to this. I see your eyes as I look at the glorious Arc D'Triomphe, glittering enticingly in my hand. My precious baby, my Arc, I swore I would never leave you…

Ah! Promises are made to be broken, otherwise they would go unsaid. Take it! Take it quickly, before I change my mind! That hurts me, it hurts me deep down. Just take it from me and don't show it to me again.

But one thing I must see again. The wide expanse of the water before the mast, the sea breeze in my feathers, the thrill of adventure beating like my heartbeat beneath my plumage. The life of an adventurer is never truly finished. One chapter closes, and another opens its pages. But not all of them can be written down. Some adventures must be lived. Someone must explore the world for the rest, someone who is brave enough, daring enough, handsome enough to do what other men quake at the thought of doing.

And Gulliver, Champion of the Deep, is just such a someone.

You look up from your bartered prize, another question unsaid on your lips, begging for an answer. Your curiosity is killing you.

You'll have to look it up in the history books, my lad.

All that remains is a set of footprints in the wet sand on the beach.

* * *

_Duuuudes! You never thought I'd actually finish it, did you? Oh, who am I kidding, you probably all abandoned me after chapter five when I started waiting seven or eight months between chapters. But like I said, I have this horrible aversion to leaving things up here and never finishing them, so even if this is just to satisfy my own OCD then it's been worth it. Also been worth it for my lovely reviewers, most notably The Murray for reviewing basically every chapter with promptness that put me to shame, and for once even putting their review in a song (Thanks, Murray, for making my night. It was awesome) Anyway, it's not like this was the Grammys of fanfiction, so I think i"ll leave it at that. Thanks to anyone who read this, my first attempt at an epic (epic meaning anything that's not a one-shot, in this context). Hope you had as much fun as I did. And I'll leave you all with this:_

_Farewell and adieu to ye, fair spanish ladies, farewell and adieu to ye, ladies from Spain!_

_Peace, love, and just enough spare time on a thursday night,_

_-RebelFaerie-_

* * *


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